You, A Violent Desire
by SaraiofUmardelin
Summary: Sarah dreams about the Labyrinth. She dreams about the ballroom, that waltz, and the arrogant king who is too handsome for her own good. And when teenage love turns out to be rather lacking, she dreams of more... Smut with plot significance.


A storm started it, yet again. Storms always stirred Sarah's blood, the flash of lightning and the rumble of thunder walking the night, rain lashing the windows and drumming on the roof, and Sarah safe and warm and dry in her bedroom – but the sound and smell and _feel_ of the storm woke something primal in her, something that made her emerald eyes burn brighter and left her abuzz with tension.

It was on a night like this, months ago, that she'd returned to the Labyrinth in her dreams and found herself, not frolicking in the maze with her friends, but dancing in the grand ballroom with the king. Her shimmery white dress was tinged with the faintest blush of pink and lavender, and when Jareth approached her, she'd taken his hand willingly despite the flush in her cheeks. It was only a dream, after all, and no one had ever made her feel as starry-eyed as he had. Only in the dream, she'd known who she was, known that her brother was safe and there was no clock ticking away at her time. Just her, and that man who'd invaded her space and her mind, with those eyes that lanced her soul. Sarah had danced with him then, spun gloriously to the music, and the other dancers were just ghosts. They were the only two who mattered, and their steps matched perfectly.

When he'd bent to kiss her, she lifted her face to his without hesitation. Even then, she'd known it was safe because it was only a dream, she could kiss him without losing her soul.

They'd danced in many dreams since, and each time, Sarah's ballgown was a little darker, a little more closely cut, until on this night when she finally fell into bed, the opalescent fabric was the color of wine. And no surprise, for she supposed that she was no longer innocent enough for the white dress, though she mourned it a bit. But what's done is done. Only yesterday she'd let Kevin have a second chance to impress her, and like the first she'd been left a little sore and a lot underwhelmed. Kissing her boyfriend was wonderful, not as sweet as the Goblin King's kisses, yet Kevin could make her heart race and her eyes sparkle. The way he touched her made her skin flush with excitement, turning hypersensitive. It all seemed so good, until what all the books said was _supposed_ to be the breathless finale, and all she got was his weight on her and a sense of sweaty unfulfillment.

The first time was never that great for girls, she'd heard, but after that she was supposed to have the same kind of fireworks he obviously felt. The experience only left her feeling cheated. Sarah could feel the disbelief on her face, fighting back the irritation that brewed deep when he stayed curled next to her. He hadn't even stopped to notice her unhappiness, keyed-up and steadily more furious. And she'd startled him and hurt his feelings by blurting out, "That's _it_?" while he panted happily beside her.

The accusation that she was a slut had led her to slap him, shocked that he would ever have _dared_ to call her that and for such a reason, and the ensuing argument ended their relationship. Good riddance, Sarah assumed. It had been a stupid idea to start with, this with Kevin. At least some of the curiosity was satisfied, even if her stupid relentless hormones were not. Dammit.

But with the storm singing in her veins and the dress swinging in burgundy shimmers about her, she went to the ballroom knowingly, her mind made up, looking for something better.

 _He_ was there, Jareth, the Goblin King, and his eyes were avaricious. He looked at her, slowly and thoroughly, and Sarah felt her cheeks burning as his gaze traveled the length of her body. It wasn't fair that this man, this dream, could do to her with a look what Kevin needed ten minutes of necking to accomplish. He smiled, wicked and wordless, as the music started behind him and the shadows of other dancers whirled around.

They met on the stairs and she raised her hand for him to take, felt his other hand at her waist, and they swung into the dance they'd practiced so often. Tonight was different, she knew it for certain the moment he touched her. She wanted more from her dream this time, as much as she could dare. Mornings of gold and Valentine evenings, sweet promises in the music and hunger in his eyes, and Sarah wanted this, wanted it all, wanted the glorious starbursts that stories had led her to expect.

She caught his jacket and her own eyes blazed, not a girl lost in a romantic dream but a young woman with fierce hungers of her own. Their dance halted then while Sarah boldly pulled him down for a kiss, not merely letting him kiss her this time but demanding his response. The words were on her lips before there was even a moment to consider the changes they could bring, "You know what I want," Sarah said in a low murmur when she pulled back for breath, insistent, staring up at him in a way she had never quite dared before. "Give me what I want."

His lips were greedy on hers, his hand on her waist slid around to her back and tugged her close against him, and the room around them spun. No more soap-bubble fantasy ballroom when she drew back for breath now, this was a bedroom, a fire crackling nearby and the sound of the rain on the roof that had followed her into sleep. His bed, a heavy four-poster in dark wood, and black silk sheets that took Sarah's breath away. "Come, precious," he whispered, and the double meaning made her blush anew.

This was nothing like Kevin, nothing like him at all, and Sarah found herself still eager despite the nervousness, pressing into him and running her hands over his chest. There was an instant of regret, of not seeming more sophisticated in this than she was, but Sarah pushed that ruthlessly away. Somehow he knew, must have known all this time. "Maybe," was her response, her voice still low, sounding more knowing, more taunting, than she could conceive of. "We'll see." Her forwardness startled her, but not into backing down. Not after how she'd been disappointed before. Tell the truth and shame the devil. He chuckled, soft and wicked, leading her to the bed while his hands found the clasps of her dress, Sarah reaching to help him.

Her boldness did surprise him, but Jareth grinned in delight. "Oh, you will," he promised. "As many times as you can manage. _That_ much I assure you."

He did not let himself think of how much hung in the balance here. It was more than just a dream, and she was more than just a runner. That Umardelin let her back in – and that he himself could not forget her – showed that she might just be the one who could break his curse. The tightness in his chest as they danced, the protective urge to gather her up, those were more than lust, even if lust was what sang in his veins now.

And she had made the choice, this was no conquest, no seduction. Sarah asked, _demanded_ , that he give her the pleasure she yearned for, and Jareth was all too willing to oblige.

She gave a little gasp as the dress fell open, baring her skin, catching at her slim hips. Jareth did not lunge to plunder her, though the sight of her rosy nipples stiffening in anticipation made him long to do just that. Sarah stood there silently then, eyes wide in surprise, her breath quick and light, from the waist up ornamented in only crystals, silver leaves, and gleaming ribbon. But those green eyes never left his, even as he slipped one finger beneath the fabric at her waist, tugging it gently down. The dress slid the rest of the way off, a heap of puddled burgundy cloth at her feet, and Jareth took her hand almost graciously, inviting her to step aside. To take one more step toward the bed in all its inevitability.

So bold, so brave, her skin flushed with a virgin's mix of eagerness and uncertainty, a particular melange Jareth knew only from when he'd been the one breathing it from every pore. It mattered not that her human boy had taken her maidenhead; among fae, it was pleasure that counted, and Sarah had known no pleasure at any hands but her own. _Tonight that changes,_ Jareth thought, a prickle of sparks running up his spine at the notion. _She is mine, and mine, and mine._

Still she held his gaze, lifting her chin, clearly fighting the urge to cross her arms over her nudity. Only lacy panties, now, and all those jewels. Smiling, Jareth shrugged off his beaded jacket and tossed it aside, then reached out ever so gently to Sarah. No words needed as he removed her earrings, then her necklace, then the fancy combs in her hair, one piece at a time, ever so slowly and deliberately.

She was shivering by the end, the tension between them wound taut enough to shatter, her pulse throbbing in her throat. Jareth took her hand again, the other at her waist as if to resume their dance, and instead guided her the last step backward, so the edge of the bed was against the backs of her thighs. "Ladies first, precious," he told her, and dropped his hands to her long slim legs, lifting her so she could lie back.

Again her eyes widened, her breath stuttering from his hands on her. The anticipation there, growing clearer and clearer while he took his time, caused her body to shiver all the more. Sarah knew not what would come next, but it seemed her body's instincts were far more learned.

Jareth lay down beside her decorously, still dressed, and ran his gloved hands along her arms, her sides, gently and almost chastely. Her eyes were on his, wide enough to drown in, when he kissed her cheek. Then he nuzzled her hair aside, his lips silken on her neck, and his breath ghosting warm over her ear. "What do you want of me, precious?" he murmured.

"You know," she whispered back, her hips arching as her hands clenched the black silk sheets, frustration sizzling in every nerve.

He drew back chuckling, though not quite cruelly. "Oh, I know what you want better than you do, sweetling. I simply wish to hear you _say_ it."

She blushed even more hotly at that. There was no good way to say it, all the adolescent euphemisms paling before the promise in his gaze. And _fuck me_ was too far beyond her, still too brashly vulgar. All of the things that had floated forbidden in her mind these last months, bold whispers she had been so confident of. Even now, even in another dream, she found her right words had evaporated and her stubborn heart was afraid of giving an inch that he might make her feel a fool of.

But the ache felt so real, the feel of him so close and so tempting, that her vanity was slowly being overcome. This was her fantasy; was she so scared to let go even here, where there were no consequences, no one to judge her? Here, now, he wanted her as she wanted him. Isn't that what she had found herself longing for? Drawing a breath, Sarah met his eyes, in spite of her fears, and whispered softly, "I want _you_. I just want _you_. Even if it's just tonight. I want more."

"Then it shall be my pleasure to give you all you wish of me," Jareth purred, strange eyes dancing with desire. He leaned in close, his body hovering over hers, and Sarah caught her breath as he placed one gloved hand on her belly. Slowly, gently, letting her grow accustomed to his touch, he petted her soft skin, her stomach, her flanks, the sideswell of her breast. Even as he did so, Jareth nuzzled her throat again, murmuring in softly wicked tones, "I would have thought you would ask me to make love to you. Or simply to drown you in desire until you scream my name, make you come for me until you cannot walk or even _see_ straight. And those unspoken wishes, too, shall be my very great pleasure to grant."

She gasped, her body rising from the bed in an unexpected, unintended arch of pure wanton need, and Jareth's lips trailed down to her collarbone, his chuckling breath raising gooseflesh on her skin. Clearly her hungry heart had not yet thought in those terms, but the idea was oh so tempting now that he'd voiced it. Sarah clenched her teeth against a needy whimper, not wanting him to know just how badly he'd gotten the advantage over her.

Jareth did not stop to tease and taunt. He kissed his way ever downward, his caressing hands waking her skin to keen sensation before his lips followed. Her breasts first, and his knowing touch there was so much _more_ than the hesitant and greedy gropings of boyfriends past, so full of promise, sending sparks through Sarah's body like fireflies.

He kissed her belly, nuzzling there, and Sarah shivered on the edge of feeling ticklish. So vulnerable, so sensitive, and then his hands framed her hips as those mismatched eyes looked up to her. "Sarah," he purred, in _that_ tone, her name sounding honeyed in his mouth, and then he was drawing her panties down, baring her last secrets to his gaze. His very appreciative, very focused, very _hungry_ gaze. She caught her breath, and he glanced up to meet her eyes again.

That heartened her, that he would check to make sure she was all right, that she hadn't decided to call this off … but why call it off, when it was _her_ dream? Her fantasy, in fact. Still, even in her dreams she wanted a man who would make certain of her desire, not one who would simply _take_ her.

Jareth smiled, a sinful expression, and bent his head almost reverently to kiss her just beneath her navel. And then a little further down. And then, again, further.

And then again, just where she knew it was _possible_ to be kissed, though no one had yet done so. And until that precise moment, Sarah hadn't really understood why anyone did _that_. It sounded a little … weird, in adolescent parlance. _Oral sex_ was clinical, and all the euphemisms bordered on gross.

This, oh this, this was something completely _else._

A little needy sound escaped her throat, as Sarah arched up into his ministrations. Her hands clutched at the sheets, twisting and tugging, while her body roared with sensation. It was just so _much_ , the most delicate touch of his tongue, soft and warm and wet as he began to explore her. And everything down there was so sharply sensitized, thrilling to those first gentle licks and nuzzles. It was the opposite of everything she'd experienced with Kevin. His hands were clumsy down her pants, never as deft as her own. Any heat he generated by touching her swiftly disappeared during the rather blunt intrusion that was, for him, the point of it all.

And if _he'd_ somehow been the one to do this with her, Sarah would've been worrying about what he thought, how he saw her, if she'd missed a hair the last time she waxed, embarrassed over how she might have smelled or tasted to him. With Jareth, none of that even crossed her mind. She just threw her head back and gasped for pleasure, shivers running up and down her back. She wasn't even aware that she'd wrapped her legs around his shoulders, her ankles crossed behind his back, her thighs squeezing his jaw with every new burst of pleasure.

"Glorious," Jareth murmured, and the feel of his lips moving against her was unspeakably erotic. And then he set about showing her that everything so far was simply him learning her, like an orchestra tuning up before the show. _Now_ he played her body like some magnificent instrument, every touch of his tongue – and eventually his fingers, first stroking, then slipped carefully inside while she bucked and moaned – calculated to drive her out of her mind with bliss.

She couldn't think, could barely breathe, her whole body caught up in pure sensory overload. And it just kept spiraling higher. The sparks of pleasure her own questing hands could awaken were quickly surpassed, as Jareth seemed to set her and the entire world on fire. Tension coiled tighter and tighter within her, until she whimpered unselfconsciously and writhed under his tender torment.

But there was enough of her mind left – enough of the essential, stubborn Sarah – not to say 'please'. Not even once. No matter how she might shudder and gasp, she would not beg him to finish, and if she let that soft needy word fall from her lips once, on some level she knew he'd never let her stop saying it.

He had her hovering right on the edge, her pulse thundering in her ears, her skin flushed hot, her hips moving in swift little wanton arcs. And then Jareth _stopped_ , even if only for a section, and drew back enough to make her meet his gaze. His eyes were bright and wild and dangerous, and his wicked mouth curved up in a cruel grin. "Sarah," he breathed, her name a prayer on his oh-so-talented tongue, spoken the way only _he_ said it, with such dark promise.

"Jareth," she moaned, and couldn't stifle the pleading note in it. His eyes stormed with iridescence as he reacted to his name on her tongue, when for so long she'd avoided saying it. But there was no time to gloat. He just smiled in triumph, bent his head to her once more, and curled his fingers just so…

 _L_ _ightning._ The blinding flash of it in her veins had her back bowing up from the bed, Sarah just barely catching her lower lip between her teeth to keep from screaming aloud. The way he affected her, his need roaring through her to capture her own, was everything she had wanted and nothing she expected, but he just drove her higher, making her keen.

She felt blinded with this pleasure as the world narrowed and her mind was full of bright, bright light. Breath in sobs, one of her hands loosened from the silk sheets to curl into his hair, soft as feathers. Close, painfully close. No warning and her vision whited-out momentarily, leaving her gasping again. The need roared up and broke its tether. Sarah gave another long, high scream, bucking harder against him to hold the sweet-shock of this as long as she could. It was too much, not enough, couldn't last, but it was bliss, the feel of him, the feel of _this._ And then the world went silver and sparkly, her voice breaking on his name when the world exploded for her, then collapsing back onto the bed, her eyes firmly closed, breath panting heavily.

He waited for her, his cheek against her inner thigh, one hand on her belly, the other tracing the outer thigh of the other leg. The leather of his gloves was slick, his jaw was damp against her skin, and Sarah blushed, knowing why, knowing it was her pleasure that marked him so.

Eventually, she recovered enough of her blissfully scattered wits to look down the length of her body at him, and caught him smiling. Wickedly, of course, but also in genuine delight. "You are delicious," Jareth told her, and she groaned, one hand rising to cover her eyes. He laughed, and kissed her thigh. "You are, precious. So very much so, I believe I'll have seconds."

Sarah's eyes went wide then. "Again?" she said, startled, not sure if her body could _take_ that much pleasure so soon.

"In a moment, if you wish," Jareth replied, his fingertips tickling along the curve of her hip. "One of the great boons of being female is that you may indulge as much as you desire, more often than any man may be capable. Besides, I am rather better endowed than your human boy, Sarah, and I need you _very_ ready for me."

Her breath caught. If he could do this to her with just his mouth, then what would be like to _really_ have him? Sarah's traitor mind presented her with the image of him above her, that pendant swinging between them, his mismatched eyes ablaze … and what would he feel like _inside_ her, where he'd woken a yearning ache that certainly did not cool at the thought of seconds. Or thirds.

Jareth only grinned at her like a cat lapping a bowl of stolen cream, and purred, "That _is_ what you truly want, is it not? All the pleasure you lacked in waking hours, everything songs and tales say that lovemaking _should_ be. You want me to take you, don't you?"

Every word was a temptation, the images crowding her mind tempting her, heating her blood again and making Sarah shiver at his question. That said, as much as she wanted to whimper each time she moved an inch, she couldn't allow him to mock her. "I don't know. Should I let you?" she challenged, though it was her own voice that sounded husky now, laying there bare to his gaze, aftershocks still firing through her. That said, Sarah fought through the fog of her need to give him her best queenly expression, "It seems like you want it just as much as I could."

"Of course I do, precious," Jareth murmured, and placed one absolutely indulgent lick against her sensitive folds. Her hips bucked wantonly, breath hissing in a gasp. "It tastes like you want to let me. By your leave, then?" The decorous words contrasted with the utterly sinful feel of his lips moving against her.

"Maybe," she whispered hotly, closing her eyes against the weight of his gaze.

"No _maybes_ , precious," Jareth scolded gently. "Yes, or no. Anything that is not _yes_ is therefore _no_. And I will not have you accuse me of coercing you later."

"Yes, then," Sarah hissed, the first satisfaction only building her hunger higher.

"Gladly, love," he murmured, and before she could recover from her startle and protest that word, he was laving her with that oh-so-talented tongue, and all coherent thought fled.

Again, the sweetest torment as he sent her spiraling higher and higher, lust coiling tighter and tighter in her very bones, until Sarah groaned through clenched teeth trying not to scream. How could anything, even in a dream, feel this _good?_ Much too soon he had her arching her back and gripping his hair in her fist, swiveling her hips up to him to wring every ounce of sensation out of this. His eyes were closed, his body tense yet still, his entire being wholly focused on what his mouth and fingers were doing to her.

His name was torn from her throat in a scream that was half-growl, her head tossing back and forth as every other sense went blind and deaf before the force of that climax. God, he was too damn _good_ at this!

Panting, again, raking the air in and out of her lungs desperately, trying to cling to this wonderfully wanton dream even as her body shuddered with echoes of pleasure. Sarah couldn't help looking dazed when he met her eyes again.

And then Jareth sat up, his clothes seeming to melt off by magic, leaving only that pendant and his gloves. Sarah's throat gave a dry click when she tried to swallow, her gaze flicking down to see that yes, he was _very_ interested in taking her. Color mounted in her cheeks yet again as she forced her eyes away.

"Look at me, Sarah," Jareth commanded, saying her name just so, in the way that made her pulse thrum. "Look well, and enjoy what you see. There is no shame here, between us."

She looked … and swallowed, staring, a little intimidated. It was unfair for any man to be so damned beautiful, to look so much like exactly the lover she wanted and dreamed of. All lean muscle and pale skin, with a dancer's grace and a fencer's strength. And of course, the one thing she didn't imagine so explicitly, which to date she'd only glimpsed in hurried glances. Sex with Kevin hadn't been about this blazing, intricate intimacy; they'd both been more concerned with getting down to business.

And speaking of _business_ , was it even going to _fit?_

He must've seen the direction of her gaze, and the trepidation in it, because Jareth murmured, "Fear not, sweet Sarah. I shall not hurt you. That, I promise you, on my word as king – you will have only pleasure this night, and as much of it as you can stand."

Well, it _was_ only a dream, and as he leaned over her, Sarah lay back, surrendering only in this small way. She let him take command, let him kiss her tender breasts, and when he took hold of her knee she moved with him, opening herself to him again.

So different from Kevin, he had none of the impatient urgency, but she could feel his hunger kept tightly leashed. He _could_ have plundered her, a mindless thrusting greed, yet chose not to, making this slow and sensual for her sake. And the feel of him, his hard length like velvet over steel against her, made Sarah keen softly. She was the impatient one here, and that was just how the Goblin King liked it.

One arm slid beneath her back, cradling her body, and he kissed her throat reverently. Then a slight adjustment, and carefully, slowly, he was pressing into her. Sarah hissed, in surprise rather than pain, for he filled her in ways she'd previously never expected. And yet there was none of the sting she expected at the start.

"Easy, precious," Jareth breathed against her throat, and let his weight rest against her as they were fully joined. With him, there was no sense of being crushed, no awkward elbows, just the delicious feeling of being surrounded and completed by his very warm, very male presence.

Even like this, her mind and senses reeling, Sarah could not resist the urge to verbally fence with him. Some of it was a brief memory of the things Kevin had called her for wanting this at all, some of it was the need to remind him of the challenge she represented. Sarah simply couldn't resist. There was no way to hide the way her voice roughened, trying to resist the urge to move just the slightest, make him move; despite that, she shot back in an smoky voice, "Not hardly."

Jareth chuckled, and kissed her, and if she'd thought of it she would've realized it was magic that left his lips soft and dry despite how deeply he'd tasted her. _"You_ are not easily won, my Sarah," he purred. "Only relax, and let me show you another way of dancing."

At that, she wanted nothing more than to lie back with a moan, but that just wouldn't do, not here. Her heart might be in her throat and her mind and body melting, he might see it all in her expression, but here, especially here, Sarah couldn't simply let him have her. No matter how she might want to, even with no consequences. No, she had won her run. She was Champion. Here, she was someone. "The last thing … I am … is relaxed," she murmured back, fighting a gasp, eyes burning into his. "So teach me, Jareth, if you know so well."

His voice hummed a low, wicked purr. "Oh my sweet Sarah. Is that not why you came to _me?_ After you defied me, defeated my Labyrinth, laid waste to my city, broke my magic in your final choice … here you are, laid bare beneath me, because _I_ _ **know**_ _what you want._ And for the sake of the lines you once read, for the sake of the wonder in your eyes and the trembling in your thighs, I'll give it to you."

Jareth kissed her then, stealing her breath, stealing her mind when he began to move. Slowly at first, almost _too_ gentle, and when she growled under her breath for more he quickened his pace. Almost imperceptibly at first; there was _more_ of him to feel than ever before, and he felt so damn good, too. Sarah was half-lost in a haze of pleasure, tracing the planes of lean muscle in his back that moved and flexed with each leisurely thrust.

And since she had no rejoinder of her last remark, of course Jareth could not be silent and simply savor this. No, he was glorying in it, more than even he had guessed. In all his years Jareth had never bedded anyone so close to virginal as Sarah, and yet there was no fear in her – just desire, sometimes shy, sometimes almost as bold as his own. And the lust _he_ felt was much sharper than he'd imagined. This should have been a conquest, bringing a vexing runner to heel, taking command of her by reins forged in her own wanton imagination … and yet Jareth found himself just as captured.

Nipping throat, he breathed, "It was instruction you wanted, hmm, precious? Wrap your legs around my waist. You'll feel it deeper."

Those green eyes had slipped closed once he had begun to move, a soft groan from her with each arch, but they opened almost lazily now. The color had grown darker there, her gaze intense as he felt Sarah shift slightly, then the brush of skin on skin when slipped first one slim leg over his back cautiously. "Like this?" Even her tone was low, so warm, when her calf curved around him before giving a teasing little arch.

Much too sweet, and Jareth growled at the feel of her, so eager. By way of answer, he caught her other knee and drew it up, which pushed Sarah down into the soft mattress … and angled her body just enough that his next, more intense thrust would strike every sensitivity. "Just like this," Jareth purred.

And the action rocked her just the way he expected it to. The pleasure stormed down on her, sweeter and stronger than any that had come before it. There was no thought for dignity or power in that moment and Sarah found herself loosing a moan that she had tried to keep behind her teeth, her head pressed back the battalion of pillows at her back. Trying to catch her breath, she bucked back against him, wanting the sensation even as she dared him to go further. "You're right, it is," she whispered, running her nails lightly over his skin, making herself keep that gaze, even when it grew lidded. "What next?"

And she did keep challenging him. "Next I make certain you haven't the breath or the wits to ask that again," Jareth taunted. Sarah _grinned_ , a wild light in her eyes, and he chuckled in pure delight. At last she was ready for everything _he_ wanted, too…

… And he reared back, catching her hips to lift her body to him, giving her the pace and pressure in each thrust that would overwhelm her.

Sarah cried out, her head thrown back again, her legs wrapped tight around his waist. Even so, even as he could all but _watch_ every circuit in her mind melt down from pure lustful heat, she gave as good as she was getting, her spine arching to roll her hips up into every thrust. " _Mine,_ " Jareth growled, his eyes hazed with opalescence.

She caught his gaze then, smoldering emerald gaze still defiant. "No," Sarah breathed. "Not … yours. I _won_ , damn you."

Jareth hadn't the inclination to argue. She would be his when she came for him, when she moaned his name aloud at the finish. And he wanted her to be his, not just in revenge for the ruin of his city or the breaking of his power. He wanted those fierce and not-so-innocent eyes, the cunning mind behind them, the heart brave enough to entrust her erstwhile enemy with this moment. He wanted all of her, and this was the best way to win her.

After a night like this, she would never lie down with another man without remembering _him_. And if he could manage it, if he could find his way through their linked dreams, there would be _many_ more memories as well.

Jareth bared his teeth in a grin, keeping the rhythm that made her keen with pleasure, and holding back from his own fulfillment that already sparked like lightning, like magic itself, down his spine and along his veins. Oh, this was going to be so worth it when she came for him.

He hadn't said a word since she protested and Sarah was too bound up to fight with him. This was light-years beyond the way Kevin had made her feel, that little candle-flame versus this bonfire, the trickle of want compared to the waves that swamped her now. The need that consumed her now was almost painful, drowning out all else. And here it was safe to want him, take what she would never dare in the real world. To take everything he could give her. Here, he had sworn no judgment. The tangled mess of feelings and thoughts that had swirled in her since she had landed in the broken castle, the way her reaction to him had been so divided, in this place, at this time, it was safe to feel all of it.

Letting all of that unfilter just for now, Sarah gave in silently in their momentary battle and bucked against him in desperate need, the pleasure so keen as to bring tears to her eyes. It was almost more than she could stand after so long. To let this free, this phantom need of the one person she should be frightened of, even hate, when she found she couldn't. Somehow, some way, he had found his way into her regard, and Sarah found she had always been reluctant to let that go. The spot he hit at that moment sparked her blood hot enough that she lost her train of thought in a low scream. _Now_ , she needed it now, needed to know that this chance had been worth the potential loss, that he would give her the one thing she had sought when this begin.

" _Yes, Sarah,_ " he groaned, and hearing how much _he_ – the Goblin King, after all – wanted and needed her was enough to drive her over the edge at last. Sarah raked her nails over those extravagant silk sheets, knotting them in her fists as she tried desperately to hold on. Too good, too much, and she cried out his name as the world dissolved into pure ecstasy for her, sure that she would die from this – and not caring, thinking it worth that and so much more.

Sarah came back to herself by degrees, first aware that Jareth was sprawled above her, propping his weight up on his forearms to spare her. He was panting for breath too, his hair disheveled, his eyes hazy with pleasure when met his gaze. Sarah could feel his pulse inside her, even as he dwindled with his fulfillment. It made her blush again, to feel that, remembering she'd made Kevin wear a condom.

The triumphant gleam rising in Jareth's mismatched eyes made her curl her lip in challenge, and Sarah tightened around him deliberately, sending an echoing shock of pleasure up her own spine in so doing. But it made him gasp, made his eyes go wide again, and he shivered, dropping his head to nip at her throat. "Careful, precious," he whispered breathlessly. "I _am_ capable of going for seconds, myself."

"Promises, promises," she purred, feeling her own triumph curve her lips in a grin. And feeling rather sore, too, but not enough that seconds was _completely_ out of the question.

"Did I not promise you Valentine evenings?" he breathed, nuzzling her.

"And mornings of gold," she whispered back, but what Sarah mostly felt at the moment was _tired_. Well nigh exhausted, worn out from pleasure, and she blinked to find herself slipping into sleep.

Jareth, more aware of what was truly happening than she who thought it just a dream, felt the connection between them shimmer and dissolve. He let it go, calling to her one last time across the bond they shared, "You are always welcome in my kingdom … and in my bed, Sarah."

She wanted to make some witty reply, but Sarah was gone into deeper sleep too swiftly. She would wake in the morning surprised at her own wild imagination, more surprised at how her body ached pleasantly from such a vivid dream. What she wouldn't admit, even to herself, was how much she missed him already – and how much she looked forward to another dream.

Jareth, meanwhile, found himself thoroughly surprised and impressed – and hoping for Sarah's return. Surely no other lover could be his equal, so she would sooner or later wish herself back. He hoped, more hungrily than he would've guessed, that it would be sooner. Tomorrow, even.


End file.
